“Yeah, I’m here,” I grunted, my tone a direct challenge.

  It took about three seconds for my mother to appear. Instead of waiting for me to come to her, I’d already changed the tone of things.

  “That isn’t very nice, Marcus.”

  As I’d expected, there was a bible in one of her hands and a cane pole in the other. A beating and lecture were standard here when anyone stayed out after curfew.

  Before my mother could launch into her scold or really look at me, Rodney and Scot stumbled through the door behind me, splattering her pristine carpet with blood.

  It was chaos from there.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Stealing Happiness

  July

  Marc

  It was almost two weeks before I was allowed (or able) to leave the house. Any type of movement hurt, but it was a small price to pay. Not only was I home for the summer, but I would also be here for the rest of the year, and I would pay off the doctor bills at the restaurant. It had worked out even better than I’d planned. It helped that I’d attacked Scot again in front of my mother and promised to kill him as soon as we returned to the farm. I had left her no choice but to bring me home.

  It was the cleverest thing I’d done so far in my life, losing those privileges, and my mother had no idea that this time, I had played her and gotten what I needed. Time with Angie.

  I met Angie at the tire swing as soon as I could walk upright, bruises finally fading, and I wasn’t able to stop myself from replaying the punishment when she asked me to.

  “It’s fairness, Marcus,” my mother intoned. “The good book says an eye for an eye.”

  I grunted as Rodney’s fist flew out and smashed into my stomach.

  “And you raised your hand to them repeatedly! I’m shocked.”

  Scot’s meaty paw sank into my ribs and the crack sent me to my knees, gasping.

  “There can’t be rewards for you. You’ll have to stay here.”

  Rodney’s punch put me on the floor and even though I’d set it up this way, I swore that someday no one would ever be able to do it again. I would learn to fight and be better at it than everyone else, no matter how hard I had to work.

  I thought longingly of my Angie as Scot’s kick rolled me against the wall, and I stayed there, holding onto the knowledge that I would be here to protect her for months.

  “I’m so sorry!” Angie cried.

  “I’m not,” I confessed. “I get to be here, with you.”

  Angie darted forward and pressed her mouth to mine. Her magic swirled around us and the pain in my head and arm sank down, and then disappeared.

  “Easy,” she murmured against my lips when the sensation became intense. The fire flared in my broken rib and then vanished, leaving me breathless.

  Angie dropped down on the ground by the tire. I assumed she was tired from helping me. I was so full of energy now that I grabbed the tire and swung across the open drop, shouting my happiness. That broken rib had hurt!

  Angie laughed at my excitement and clapped when I stood on the tire to do the tricks that all the kids who came here tried. I’d had years to perfect them and I used the best ones now, trying to make sure she wasn’t sad anymore or feeling guilty.

  As the sun rose directly overhead, I dropped down by her in the shade of the weeds and curled my hand around hers.

  Angie sucked in a breath at the contact, surprising me again with the response. I knew girls got the same feelings about their bodies that boys did, but I didn’t know if it was at the same ages. I decided she wasn’t old enough to have those feelings yet.

  Angie must have caught the thought because she spun around and tackled me!

  Angie…straddling me. My hands clenched into fists.

  Lightning flashed and the sky above us turned into a stormy mass that showered wind and rain.

  Angie slowly stood up, swiping wet hair back. “I feel everything that you do!”

  The storm blew harder for a minute and then Angie stretched out her hands and it slowly calmed. I realized her anger had triggered it and gaped. Not at the power, but at the emotions I could feel as she linked our minds to tell me, “I dream about holding you.”

  My heart and body reacted together and gave in to what we both wanted. “I won’t hold back as much.”

  Angie scowled at me, but I refused to give more. I wouldn’t be yet another male who assumed her body would be mine to take.

  I stiffened when her voice came in my mind.

  I can love you, but you’ll never own me.

  That wasn’t what I wanted anyway. “Deal.”

  I controlled the urge to seal it with a repeat of the action that shouldn’t happen again for years.

  I felt her withdraw from my mind at that choice.

  “It’s not rejection,” I soothed. “It’s caution. Anyone could come by here.”

  “And when we’re completely alone and out of sight? Like in the clubhouse?”

  I realized our conversation was once again way beyond her physical age, but Angie continued to respond as if she were an adult.

  “Marc?”

  “I haven’t answered that question for me yet, baby-cakes, but it has to be slow.”

  “We can kiss,” she suggested, cheeks flaming. “Right?”

  I wanted to say yes. Of course, I wanted to, but I shook my head. “I don’t think so, baby. Not until you’re older.”

  “Just for hello and goodbye,” she negotiated.

  I could feel my will crumbling. “Uh, maybe.”

  “And on my birthday, we do more. A lot more.”

  I groaned, not sure we should do any of that this year. Things were moving too fast for me.

  Angie respected that and said, “Okay, okay. Whatever you decide, I’ll do.”

  I understood what that meant better than she did and felt my cheeks grow hot.

  “So, uh, no more kisses, huh?” Angie asked playfully; hand on her slender hip as she began to grin. “Not even one more?”

  How could I tell her no?

  Bodies separated, arms at my sides, I did it before the guilt could interfere.

  Angie

  This kiss wasn’t like the first ones. The feel of his lips did funny things to me. I found myself breathing differently, hands curling into fists. It wasn’t exactly what my mom’s smut books described, but it was close enough that I recognized it for desire. My body liked him.

  I leaned closer and my hand brushed his, sending a chill through us both. I did it again, quickly before he could pull away, and blue light shot out where we touched.

  Marc didn’t move and it surprised me that he was allowing so much. I moved even closer, wanting to feel his arms around me, like he’d done with Jeanie at the Christmas party.

  “Please?” I leaned against him, and Marc took me into his arms for the very first time as a lover. I was mesmerized, barely able to think. His body was hard against mine as he held me close. I could feel his heartbeat and my hands went to his hair to complete the dream.

  “Mmm…”

  The sound of Marc enjoying the embrace was incredible and I let my fingers curl into his hair. I’d always wanted to do that.

  Marc broke the kiss with a gasp that gave me another chill. I liked making him feel good.

  “No more…for a while.”

  I wasn’t sure exactly what would happen if we didn’t stop, but I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. A line from one of the novels popped into my mind.

  “A man needs a release, Victoria, and he’ll get one wherever it’s available.”

  That made me think of Jeanie. She was letting Marc go further than a kiss. It was always in her thoughts when we ran into each other.

  “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, still breathing weird. “Thinking.”

  Anyone else would have immediately asked about what, but not my Brady. He waited patiently. Finally, I let it out.

  “I have to ask a personal question.”

  Marc smiled. “Shoot.”

  I blushed again. “How much of that can we do before you go to her?”

  It was the first time I’d ever mentioned his girlfriend directly and the air sparked with pain. “I hate her, by the way.”

  Marc was startled, mostly because of my age. I wasn’t supposed to feel these things yet.

  “I think we’re okay for a while,” he answered slowly, grinning at me.

  He was so pretty to the power inside, and I went into his arms eagerly. “You’ll tell me when?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  My cheeks felt hot as I said, “Never mind.”

  I couldn’t stand the thought of Marc being with anyone else. I didn’t want to push him that way.

  “I’m sorry I can’t make that promise,” Marc stated.

  “I won’t always be off limits, I know,” I replied before he could say it. “Stop thinking that. It doesn’t help me. I want you now.”

  Marc’s face twisted as he got a full blast of my pain and unhappiness, and he grabbed me. This kiss was wild, totally my Brady, and I tangled my fingers in his hair again as my body came to life. He claimed me with that kiss and I surrendered willingly.

  Marc

  “Marcie!”

  Georgie was big. He was 6’2, with huge football player shoulders and a thick skull that sported a gigantic nose. It used to be the only thing I stared at when I came in here.

  I spotted Angie serving customers at the far end of the counter and dropped my head. I was here to work off the medical costs of cracking Rodney and Scot with the bat.

  Georgie took a quick glance to verify that I was alone as he came from the back room. “We’ve missed you around here.”

  The large checks that my friends and I added up probably have something to do with that, I thought. “Thanks. Busy with the training and farm.”

  “And fighting with your cousins,” he remarked. “It’s not good for family to hurt each other so badly.”

  “Yeah.” I accepted the scold. “I couldn’t stop myself.”

  Georgie’s expression lightened. “I forgive you!”

  He burst into laughter and I grinned, a bit more uneasy than I usually was around him. “Cool.”

  He clapped me on the shoulder, sending me a foot down the counter and he laughed again. “We’ll have to fatten you up.”

  He turned toward the restaurant that held one customer. “Angela!”

  Angie came over with the tray of dishes that she’d started to put away. I had to look at her, but I tried to do it carefully.

  She didn’t glance at me at all.

  “Marcie needs some breakfast before he starts working off his punishment. Feed him.”

  Georgie laughed once more, heading for the same grill area that she did. I saw her grip on the tray tighten as he leaned forward, saying something I couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, she flushed and his booming laugh echoed again.

  Georgie gave me another welcoming smile and then went into the backroom to finish the morning prep for the coming breakfast rush. I wanted to know what he said. For her to be nice to me so that I would spend money here again?

  “Yes,” Angie answered.

  I was startled to find her in front of me with a pad and a pen, and I cleared my throat. “Goetta and eggs, over easy. And a coke.”

  She moved around the grill as if she’d been doing it for a while and I struggled to recall if she’d been here long. Had she been serving people last year when Jeanie was coming in for her afterschool club meetings?

  Angie cracked the eggs in the bowl once the goetta started sizzling and then came to set the timer in front of me. She did it in an unthinking manner, and I was struck again, harder this time, by her age. She was barely a teenager. How could she be so…womanly?

  Angie tensed.

  It was only for a second, but I’d seen it. She didn’t like my thoughts, or at least, they made her nervous.

  “Angela.”

  Georgie’s tone wasn’t kind and Angie turned to me with a bored voice and scared expression that begged me to be very, very careful.

  “So how come your girlfriend doesn’t come in anymore?”

  I blinked as I made the connection. She was scared. Of Georgie.

  “Uh, I’m not sure.” I answered awkwardly. “I think the club got cancelled.”

  “Damn budgets,” Georgie muttered from the backroom, clearly listening.

  “We were just wondering. Georgie was going to reserve that table for them every Saturday. You can tell her that,” Angie ground out.

  I smiled, trying to calm them both. “That might bring her back without the club. I’ll tell her.”

  Angie went to flip the goetta and eggs. “Sucks that you’re grounded.”

  I hid my grin. “Yeah. Have to be here all summer now.”

  She spun around to flash me a happy grin and then turned back to my food. “Guess we’ll be seeing more of you.”

  “Yep. I like this place.”

  There was silence for a minute where we stole peeks at each other and listened to Georgie work in the back. Being the only restaurant in town that was open this early had advantages.

  “What will I do here?”

  “You’ll have to ask Georgie,” Angie answered. “Rodney and Scot were table boys and greeters. Probably something like that.”

  Georgie came out with a huge slab of bacon and began laying it on the grill. He whispered to Angie again and she moved faster getting my food.

  The meal was probably good, but I tasted nothing, too busy feeling the tension. This was a small example of how it was with us while we walked the tightrope. It was uglier when my mother was around.

  “You mind things,” Georgie told Angie. “Get him started on seat-n-greet.”

  “Okay,” she answered, taking over putting the bacon on the grill.

  When we were alone, the uneasy silence told me that she was embarrassed. I kept my mouth shut. In public, we would be careful and casual, and I would protect her where I could.

  And when we were alone?

  I suspected I would have a hard time telling her no over almost anything that she wanted.

  We had the restaurant mostly to ourselves as I sat at the counter while she explained what I had to do, and I picked out details that I’d allowed myself to ignore. Underweight, underdressed, and frightened. That last one lurked in those startling blue depths and again, the urge to help her was overwhelming.

  “Careful,” Angie warned lowly, moving to scrap the bacon grease from the grill. He hears everything back there.

  I nodded to show that I’d heard, resigning myself to causal talk. It was still better than not being here with her.

  It was a long day and I worked hard, ribs throbbing again long before I was finished. It told me that her power wasn’t as strong as I’d thought. I wasn’t healed, but I was a lot better as I cleared and wiped down tables, seated patrons, cleaned up after squalling babies, mopped, fetched, and of course, watched my Angie.

  When the shift finally ended, we went in different directions and ended up in the cornfield minutes later.

  “Are you going to be in the backwards senior show this year, if the reinstatement petition passes?” Angie asked as we sank down in the cool dirt under the tall corn plants.

  “Nah. My mother would have a fit.”

  “Too bad” she answered. “Be funny to see you in a skirt.”

  I grinned. I had a cool kid image at school with my car and leather jacket. I wasn’t going to endanger that with a silly Halloween show. My brother, Daryl, was going to take part in the show, even though he’d already graduated. He was in the town council’s office now, the first Brady politician, and he’d chosen to MC the event in full dress–literally. My mother couldn’t stop him, but she’d registered her disapproval by doubling his rent for the apartment that she’d moved him into.

  The tornado siren went off, making us flinch and look toward town. It was the normal weekly testing, but it still frayed nerves sometimes.

  “Got any good classes?” Angie asked, trying to distract us both. “New teachers?”

  “Just a new one in chemistry. Mr. Sikes got the cancer last year. He left at summer break.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  She leaned against my arm and I smiled, wishing we could spend every afternoon this way. Even the sweat and aching ribs couldn’t interfere with how perfect it felt.

  To my delight, we did get to spend almost the entire summer together. No one questioned where we went after work, so long as we showed up at our homes in time for curfew. We stole our happiness that summer.

  Many of our forbidden hours were spent asking each other questions, often laughing at the answers. On one hot day near the end of July, Angie rolled over in the dirt and asked, “Will you get a tattoo?”

  “Huh? Do I need one?”

  “When you’re a Marine, I mean.”

  I hadn’t thought about it. “Yeah. Why not?”

  Angie grinned. “My name?”

  I laughed, shrugging. “You may not like me anymore by then.”

  Her face darkened in denial. “That won’t ever happen.”

  She held my gaze long enough to be positive that I knew she meant it.

  I sighed happily. “What about you?”

  “What?”

  “Tattoos.”

  “Oh, I think a writer can have a tat,” Angie sent playfully. “We can match!”

  “A tat?” I growled, tickling her. “A tat?”

  When we were tired of wrestling, (I was afraid to let the sparks gain control and called it early) we lounged in the shade of the plants, watching ants and beetles struggles through the cracking dirt.

  “So you picked being a writer?” I asked. I’d never thought about being anything that might make me famous.

  “So far,” Angie answered, lying back with no thought to the dirt getting in her hair. Jeanie never would have done that.

  “But I don’t want the fame part. I have all these stories in my mind. I think they might make great books or movies.”

  “You’ll need another name, then,” I told her, rolling over on my side so I could stare in the fading sunlight. “Otherwise, you’ll get famous and the reporters will come.”